


Storm King's Thunder: Spark

by valamerys



Series: Storm King's Thunder campaign fic [10]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, Lightning - Freeform, massive amounts of Marin Angst, pain play, the ahem rating will go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valamerys/pseuds/valamerys
Summary: Marin decides what she wants, several times over.
Relationships: Marin/Kitro
Series: Storm King's Thunder campaign fic [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659832
Kudos: 11





	Storm King's Thunder: Spark

**Author's Note:**

> After a grueling journey through the Underdark, Marin led Kitro's people to a new settlement and encountered the (real) Dark Maiden. Emotional about her blessing, Kitro looked to Marin for guidance, only for her to demur and leave him.
> 
> In the weeks since, Marin has rescued another blue tiefling, spoken with the Storm Lord, and learned that her people can be freed just as soon as she regains her childhood memories— and becomes High Priestess and queen of the Purple Rocks. Having temporarily deferred her destiny, the Stormchasers went about the equally pressing business of hosting a housewarming party at their Yarter mansion.
> 
> After hunting Kitro down in the forest and slaying a few giants with his help, Marin invited (and teleported) him and Didek to the gathering. (Where Marin and Kitro won as a team at fantasy beer pong.) Approaching the end of the evening, Kitro has asked for a house tour, and Didek attempted to tag along...

Magic engulfs them, cool and sharp, and her sorcery deposits Marin and Kitro seamlessly onto the second-floor landing, off to the left. The remaining murmurs of party guests vanish with the visage of the foyer, replaced with the darkened hall, torchlight from the sconces casting soft shadows across the pillars. 

Marin’s heart hammers in her throat, partially a lingering flush from the alcohol and partially mortification for what she just _did_ . Could she have possibly found a _less_ sublte way to get him alone? Kitro cranes his head to take in their new setting, the tall vaulted ceiling and expanses of polished sandstone.

“Didek seems tired,” Marin lies baldly, before he can comment on the fact that she just abandoned his father and teleported them halfway across the manor. “He should get some rest.”

“It is very late,” Kitro murmurs. “He should probably return to the forest.” He seems somehow unfazed by— even unaware of?— the extreme forwardness of the stunt she just pulled, and Marin doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.

He adds, an afterthought, “As should I.”

Her nerves cool under sudden disappointment, and she bites her lip. She’d thought his request for a _tour_ had… another meaning. But maybe that’s a relief? “I’m sorry; I can’t take you back until tomorrow. I can only cast that spell once a day.”

“How convenient.” His eyes, blue like chips of ice in the torchlight, fix on her with that inscrutable intensity. “I suppose I am at your mercy, then.”

Marin cannot muster any answer to _that_ that isn’t going to make her blush furiously, so rather than respond she looks away and makes a stilted gesture towards the rest of the hallway.

 _You are always very quiet when we talk alone like this,_ he muses, through the telepathic link this time.

Marin huffs. _Because your stare is terrifying, has anyone ever told you that?_

She tries not to look at him as she moves to lead them to the next suite of rooms, but when she brushes past his shoulder, his mouth is curved into a smirk.

  
  


***

Marin procrastinates as long as possible, but eventually, there is only one room left he hasn’t seen.

“This is my room,” She says, trying to sound as casual as possible, and pushes open the door. Immediately, cringingly, she remembers that she left it a wreck, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. “Sorry it’s a mess.”

He follows her inside. Skirt layers, shoes, and pieces of armor lay strewn about, the aftermath of indecision and her quick change for the party. A corset lies draped over the full-length mirror, and she sees Kitro eye it with some judgement.

“It is,” he says dryly, picking his way around the clothes. “But it is still nicer than the prison cell in Mithril Hall.” 

Marin busies herself with lighting the torch beside her door using the Opal of the Ild Rune just for something to do other than watching him. She isn’t quite sure what to make of the reference to their meeting. She’s barely sure what to make of anything he’s said to her since finding him in the forest. Coldness from him she would have known how to handle— she’s not sure if the relative friendliness in its place is apology or apathy. 

“I got the master bedroom, somehow,” She says finally, stowing the rune and bracing for awkwardness. “It has its perks.” 

Kitro’s eyes land on the glass-paned doors that lead to the balcony. “So I see.”

It’s a completely unnecessary use of her power, but she summons a thread of magic and takes a misty step across the room, appearing next to the doors. She unlocks and opens them before she can think better of it, and arches an eyebrow at him.

A murmur of his spellwork, and he appears next to her, the same magics as hers. A grin breaks across her face unbidden as he mimics her arched eyebrow, too, and steps onto the balcony.

She lingers in the doorframe, and her pulse thunders in her ears. What exactly was her endgame here? What does she _want?_ She keeps asking other people that— Rekhien, Theseus. It feels important. They have so much power, now; they have to remember what they want, not just what other people ask of them. But she’s better at knowing what she _doesn’t_ want— she doesn’t want to be Voc Rocsha yet. She doesn’t want to be trapped on an island for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t want to regret another interaction with Kitro.

He leans against the balcony railing, silhouetted in silver moonlight. The moon is near full and luminous in the sky, the gardens gently rustling below. Yarter reaches out before them, the rooftops creating a jagged shape as far as they can see.

She wanted to invite him. She wanted to be alone with him. But the logical conclusion of that is mortifying to admit to herself, much less to him. It seems ridiculous to, what, seduce him? How in the world does she even do that, if he’s either ignoring or oblivious to the implications of inviting him into her room after midnight? Does she actually want him, or does she just want his attention?

The outside air is cold, and Marin takes a deep breath, steadies herself. 

There is one thing she’s certain she wants. Even if he doesn’t care, even if he mocks her for it. She wants Kitro to know who she is. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” He replies with no hesitation, gazing up at the moon. “I can use your secrets against you.”

It’s not funny, not really, because it’s the truth, but the blitheness of it makes Marin roll her eyes. “You’ll betray us eventually, we know. It’s not really a secret anyway, everyone—” She catches herself. “Well. My friends know.”

His expression narrows into something quizzical and a little amused. “Did you expect me to betray you in the Underdark?”

It’s a sincerely funny question, and Marin chokes on a laugh. “Yes, of course. The boys didn’t want to accept your help in the first place and we get betrayed almost constantly. We were all surprised to make it to the surface without knives sticking out of our backs.”

“I would not have stabbed you.” He tilts his head at her, silver illumination playing on the planes of his face. “My weapon doesn’t work that way.”

Marin gives an amused huff despite herself. “No, it’s— I know. It’s just a saying.”

He doesn’t quite smile, but his eyes glint with something like humor. “I know too. I am fucking with you.”

Marin scoffs, even though she finds it funny, even though it certainly shows on her face. The moonlight is so bright it reminds her of that night— when they emerged in the forest.

_What does she want?_

Marin steps up to the railing, rests her elbows on the freezing metal beside him. “I tried earlier, but I want to apologize again. That I couldn’t help you more that night.”

His spine stiffens. “My people are safe now. The land is blessed by the Maiden. There is nothing else you could have done for us.”

In the Underdark, she had wanted so badly for— something. His approval, his trust. His respect, maybe. It had stung, that Rekhien had gotten it despite Kitro’s obvious disdain for his choices, while he’d _used_ Marin. But then she’d gotten what she’d wanted. Kitro wretched and sincere, asking her and no one else what he was meant to do. And she’d absolutely panicked. 

She swallows. “I mean when we got to the surface. In the forest. When I left you.” His tear-streaked face is burned into her memory, more, even, than a goddess bowing to her. “I’m sorry for that.”

His affect doesn’t change. He isn’t quite looking at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did very well in the Underdark and I imagine you will lead your people to freedom just as you did mine.”

She doesn’t know if he misunderstands her or if it’s a refusal to discuss it. She doesn’t know which is more frustrating.

“I found out I’m a princess,” She blurts, and turns to him outright. He stares. Marin’s face heats despite the cold. “That’s… the secret I was going to tell you.”

He looks the least surprised of anyone who has learned that information this week. “Your people could not want for a better one.”

It’s not a reassurance. Kitro isn’t, as a general rule, _reassuring_. But he’s looking at her— just at her, now— and his face is carved with honesty, brutal and beautiful and close enough to touch.

“I—” She’s caught up short, and the words come out soft with surprise. “Thank you.”

And suddenly Marin knows exactly what she wants. 

She reaches for the fading rush of drunken courage the way she does for her magic, and wills herself not to look away from him this time. “It’s been… hard, since we left you,” She offers, quiet in the space between them. “My god asked everything of me. I’m not what I thought I was. I had an opportunity to free my people and I didn’t.” The memory of Talos’s fury echoes through her bones. “Couldn’t.”

“You will,” he says simply.

“I will,” Marin breathes, holding his faith in her like it’s made of glass. “But I want to do something for myself, first. Something that has nothing to do with gods or dragons or destiny. Just because I want to.”

His brow creases, uncomprehending. “...You should do that, then.”

He’s so often a pace ahead of her that it’s a little thrill to understand something he doesn’t yet. To be able to show him. Marin reaches up and presses her lips to his.

For a terrifying moment he stills against her, shock written in the stiff lines of his body, in the sudden intake of breath that feathers on Marin’s cheek.

And then he’s surging against her, kissing her back.


End file.
